


You're Still the Only One That Feels Like Home

by lionessvalenti



Category: White Collar
Genre: Friendship, Future Fic, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-23
Updated: 2010-09-23
Packaged: 2017-10-12 03:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/pseuds/lionessvalenti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal makes a request two weeks before his sentence is over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Still the Only One That Feels Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the Missy Higgins song, _Ten Days_. Beta read by Lefaym.

Peter leaned back in his chair, beer in hand, and looked across the table at Neal. It was cool outside, fall just setting in, but with their jackets still on, it was perfectly comfortable to sit on the patio at their favorite restaurant. The white votive candle in the middle of the table occasionally flickered with the wind.

"So, just two more weeks," Peter said. He imagined Neal had a calender somewhere, marking each day off with a red X. The way his prison cell had been marked with grease pencil.

"Yup," Neal replied "Feels like just yesterday you were escorting me out of prison."

Peter shook his head. "Feels like four years."

Neal laughed.

"Excited?" Peter asked, taking a swig of his beer.

He hesitated for just a moment, but Neal smiled as he said, "Anxious."

"I'll bet." Peter set down the bottle and reached for the fork sitting on the edge of his plate. He paused, looking up at Neal, and he realized Neal meant something else. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Neal said immediately. He glanced down at his plate, then back up at Peter. "You'll think I'm crazy."

"That's never stopped you before."

Neal smiled to himself. He studied Peter's face for a moment, sizing up if he was ready for the bombshell Neal was bound to drop on him. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good, so Peter mentally braced himself.

"I don't... I don't know that I want out of my anklet," Neal said, one eye narrowing slightly, like he wasn't sure if even he believed what he just said.

Peter was going for his beer, but he was glad he didn't have it, because he would have sprayed it across the table. "You're joking, right?" he asked a little too loudly. The people at the next table looked over at them.

"No," Neal said, and this time he looked mildly offended. "Look, Peter, I was in prison for four years. I've been wearing this tracker for another four. I'm kind of comfortable with the idea of someone -- you-- knowing where I am. I'm used to it. It's been a while since I've been completely off the grid. As much as I may have wanted it four years ago, now it's... daunting."

"And you like being confined to a two mile radius?" Peter asked, raising his eyebrows.

Neal shook his head. "No. Not at all. I don't want that, I'm ready to go, but almost every time I've been off my anklet in the last four years, either something horrible was happening to me, being used as ransom springs to mind, or..." He pulled a face, clearly struggling to admit the next part. "Or I was doing something I shouldn't. Plus, it might be nice to have a rock-solid alibi for when people start accusing me of crimes I didn't commit the second I'm free."

"Oh," Peter said, "you want a safety net."

"No. Well, yes, but no."

Peter raised his shoulders, then dropped them, a little frustrated. Why did they always have to do this? They'd been partners for four years and they did this runaround every time Neal wanted to talk about something important.

"Then what is it? What's this really about?"

Neal took a deep breath. "I don't want to run, Peter. I don't want to hide."

"In two weeks, you're going to be free. You understand what that means, right? You did your time, Neal. It's not running or hiding. It's freedom. You can go anywhere, stay anywhere, and as long as it's legal, you can do whatever you want. Go where you want. There's nothing wrong with it."

"I just want you to know where I am," Neal said softly, not quite meeting Peter's eye. "No matter where that might be."

Peter stared at him, waiting for a tell that Neal was lying, or a sign of a smirk, thinking that Peter had fallen for the joke, but none of that came. In fact, Neal looked almost _embarrassed_.

This time, Peter did pick up his bottle. With an air of casualness, anything to get that uncomfortable expression off Neal's face, he said, "I'll see what I can do."

Neal smiled, looking instantly at ease. "I'll get the check."

\--- --- ---

Neal's anklet had been removed, but two hours later, he was still hanging around the office. He knew he was social and he had talked to everyone, but he was astounded at how many people, from clerks to agents, were coming up to him and saying how much they were going to miss him. Even Diana told him it'd be quiet with him gone, and had given him a farewell fist-bump.

"I thought you'd be halfway to JFK by now," Jones said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Neal turned toward him and grinned. "My flight's on Saturday. I'm in no hurry. I've got all the time in the world."

"Now where do you think you can go that's better than New York City?" Jones raised his eyebrows, clearly waiting for a good answer.

Neal shook his head. "Nowhere, but it's time to stretch my legs." He tapped his left thigh. "This one's a little lighter now."

"Fair enough," Jones replied, grinning back at him. He looked like he was going to say something else, but Peter stepped out of his office and pointed to Neal -- the double finger-point. "Don't tell me you're in trouble already."

"I didn't even steal office supplies," Neal said, grinning. He grasped Jones' hand and shook it. "I'll see you around, man." He pulled away and strolled across the room and upstairs to Peter's office.

"Whatever it is," Neal said, closing the door, "I have proof I didn't do it."

"You're fine," Peter replied, smiling. He leaned against the front of his desk. "I got you something."

Neal perked up, surprised. "You bought me a present?"

"A going away present," Peter said. He reached around and picked a box off his desk and handed it to Neal. "And a thank you gift. For four years of good work."

A smile spread across Neal's face as he toyed with the box. He felt the prickle of threatening tears, but he was _not_ going to cry in front of Peter. At least not over a goodbye. Over being told he'd done well. It shouldn't mean that much, but it did. He'd done his time and he'd done well.

Instead of crying, Neal opened the box, and inside was a watch. It had a black leather strap and a square face, with no numbers; only sleek lines. It was nice and probably out of Peter's budget, though still not quite in Neal's. He could make it work.

Peter pulled the watch from the box and took Neal's left hand, putting the watch on for him. "This watch is fitted with a GPS tracker," he said, pulling the strap through the buckle. "I'm the only one with access to the data. As long as you have it on you, no matter where you are in the world, I'll know where you are."

Neal stared at him. "Peter."

"Don't leave home without it," Peter said quickly, maybe in case Neal was going to say something sentimental. "It can't be used as evidence if you're accused or arrested for any crimes. This isn't the anklet, it can't protect you. It's just for you and me, and I'm trusting you not to use or manipulate this."

"I won't," he replied, surprisingly earnest, and Peter believed him. Neal's shoulders sagged an inch with relief. "Thank you. Really."

Peter crossed his arms. "I'll admit, the more I thought about, the more I liked the idea of being able to keep tabs on you. I don't want to see you go off the grid."

"Elizabeth brought that to your attention, didn't she?"

"There might have been a conversation. Besides, pulling up your map is part of my morning ritual." Peter grinned, and slowly his smile softened. "Neal, you know you can always come back, right? When you're done traveling the world, or wherever you're going, you have a home here. There are a lot of people here who are going to miss you."

"You included?" Neal asked.

Peter shrugged, but he was still smiling. "Maybe in a few weeks. A month or two."

Neal grinned. "Liar. You miss me already."

"Oh, now I'm the liar?" Peter laughed and stood up straight. He put a hand on Neal's back, between his shoulder blades, as they walked out the office together, possibly for the last time. "It's nice to know that I'll be able to find you. If I need you for anything."

Neal glanced down at his new watch and tried to imagine a situation (that didn't involve being chased) where Peter would seek him out. It was considerably easier to imagine himself in trouble and needing Peter's help. He looked up and smiled. "And I know where you'll be. If I feel like coming home."

Peter grinned, looking pleased. "I'm not going anywhere."


End file.
